


good people (bad times)

by posieau



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, josie takes in the severity of her situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posieau/pseuds/posieau
Summary: How many good people do you really know?





	good people (bad times)

**Author's Note:**

> over analyzing is fun

She’s getting really fucking tired of crying. 

After being buried alive by her biological mother, she cried. When she had to siphon the _life_ out of her, she cried. At one point, it felt like crying was all she was capable of doing well without failure. She had grown so familiar with the feeling of damp cheeks and the bitter taste of salt on her lips, that if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend to hear the ocean spray and feel the warm sun on her face. But when she opened them, she was only ever faced with the brutal truth of reality. 

In her naivety, and after being repeatedly beaten down and broken by everything life threw at her, she promised never to let anything have the power to make her cry again.

Frankly, she was really just getting tired of being let down time and time again while simultaneously expecting people to be _good_. She had been too trusting in all her endeavors and she knows that, but out of their world of witches and werewolves and vampires, you’d think there would be a _little_ room in there for good people—she was wrong. 

Something in the way Penelope looked at her when she had fallen—thrown herself—down the stairs echoed in Josie’s mind to the point where the echo morphed into screaming. 

_Open the letter, please. Please._

Though the siphon would never openly admit what took her so long, she could see the haunting urgency of finality in the deep green eyes of the girl who constantly implored her to read it.

_Why why why didn’t she just read it?_

From the moment Josie received the letter, she knew she should’ve put her pride aside and read it right then and there on the steps. But she also knew that holding a steely front in the face of the girl who broke your heart was more important than anything—because god knows how tragic it would be if the one you loved saw you hurting, saw that you cared. 

On even the busiest of school nights, the weight of the letter would draw her head towards her desk, even on the nights where the world seemed to be falling apart at the seams. There was something about it that demanded her attention, like two magnets opposite sides of a wall; destined to meet, but under impossible circumstances. She assumed that having something so personal from Penelope for the first time in a while would affect her like this. Would make her weak.

But, when she finally, _finally_ read Penelope’s letter, fully intending to read nothing more than a half-baked apology weaved between words of venom and resentment, she was forced to remember what a good person was.

It had been so long since Josie had seen or heard the real Penelope, that she had forgotten how much the witch cared for her. She read the letter over and over again until she knew it by heart, each time a new wave of shame washing over her for immediately assuming the worst of her ex-girlfriend. For assuming what everyone else thought of her, what Josie _knew_ she wasn’t.

She should have cried. For once, it felt like the only appropriate response. But she couldn’t bring herself to do so. A flicker of the promise she had vowed to herself flashed in her mind, and she willed her tears to remain at bay.

Instead, she focused on the letter in her hands that was practically shining with the words of reverence that Penelope had showered her with. Beautifully woven words that seemed to be intricately picked with the grace of only Penelope Park’s writing. With every word her dampening eyes took in, her heavy and cold heart lifted, swept along a blissful journey by eventual promises and sorrowful goodbyes.

_In. Out. In. Out._

She had finally run out of tears.

Walking down to where the Miss Mystic Falls competition was still carrying on, her sights zeroed in on her sister. 

“They’re about to announce the winners where have you _been?_”

With a dazed look, Josie caught a glimpse of Hope in her dress—in her mom’s dress. She pulls her focus back to her sister before replying, “I was getting the note that Penelope wrote me, she’s leaving the _school._” 

She could feel the preface of the process she’d become so accustomed to, her throat beginning to tighten, and her breaths becoming shaky and erratic. 

But she didn’t even make it that far before her sister let out a light laugh, “Oh yeah, I knew that. I overheard dad talking to her parents.” 

Her eyes were already welling up, but the despair had transformed into disbelief.  
The one person who knew her better than anyone else in the world. Who knew her weaknesses and insecurities. Who could literally _feel_ her emotions through their link. 

For a brief moment, Josie wondered if her sister could feel what she felt. 

If her heart was hammering as loudly as her own. If she felt the indiscernible pressure that was suffocating her with every breath. The tremors in in her gasps that spread through her entire body like a wildfire so that she was visibly shaking with anguish turned anger. 

_She knew she knew she knew._

The rest of the conversation was a blur, really. From the moment Josie realized she was on her own, she had one clear objective: stop Penelope from leaving.

The sure and steady breaths emanated from her ex were unstable and broken at best. As soon as she stepped near hear, the witch’s composure seemed to assume one of relief. Like she was allowing just one more moment of weakness and vulnerability. 

Her posture laxed, her head briefly hung, and she inhaled a long, shaky breath before looking back up at the siphon. 

It hurt Josie to see how much she had hurt Penelope. How much she was still hurting her, even as she handed Josie the leather-bound book that seemed heavy with secrets. Josie was going to beg her to stay, she really was. She was going to get on her knees and forgive her for everything she’s ever done, for everything Josie would _one day understand._

Right as she was going to take that first step, Penelope’s hands were wiping the tears that she hadn’t realized were falling. These seemed foreign, tainted with misery and sadness and _almosts._

When she looked at the witch with her forehead pressed against her own, she could see the desperation in her eyes. Then she felt it in her kiss. This wasn’t going to be something that could be fixed with whispered nothings and concealed promises. It was a long time coming, and now the twin had to face the inevitable ending of what had to be her greatest love story—of what she had so often hoped would be her last. 

She had to let her leave. 

_“I love you, Jojo.”_

The shame that was buried so deeply in her chest multiplied by tenfold and all the words and questions that were shooting around her head in a vicious circle screamed to a sudden and solemn stop. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, and she couldn’t cry. All she could do was take in as much as she could of the girl pressed against her—soak everything up—every stitch of her clothes, dip in her body, fiber in her being. 

She let her eyes close, her senses open, her muscles relax, and she finally (in what felt like the first time in months) felt completely and unequivocally _home._

At that moment, in all of her uncertainty, Josie immediately knew there was _one_ thing that she was sure of. Even now after all of the fights and the glares, she knew Penelope was the light in her constantly growing darkness. When it felt like she would be overtaken by the shadowy legacies of her family’s past and present, Penelope was always there.

Though she hurt her and made her so unbelievably frustrated, somehow Penelope’s honest to god goodness outweighed the façade of evil and she just knew she would never forget about her. 

And so, even though Josie never said it back with words, there was love in her silence. She hoped Penelope knew that.

With the most control she thinks she’s ever possessed in the entirety of her short life, the siphon watched the love of her life walk away. She left and Josie finally allowed her tears to flow freely. Because someone like Penelope Park only walks into your life once if you’re lucky, and you’d be a fool not to grieve that loss. And there she was, back realigning with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and the spark of something determined behind her eyes beginning to fan into a wild flame. 

As her bag rolled away, and the steady streams of pent up emotion were running down Josie’s face with no Penelope to wipe them away, the siphon realized that Penelope might have been the only truly good person she had ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> how do we feel? suggestions, comments, cantankerous statements? all are welcome


End file.
